Wounded
by Snarling-Stilinski
Summary: A trilogy. Derek shows up on Stiles' doorstep with arrow wounds spilling blood. He needs Stiles' help. Stiles fixes the werewolf up and bandages him to protect the wounds. Derek then passes out in the teen's shower and remains unconscious as Stiles manages to get him into his bed. But what will happen when they discover the wounds wont heal?
1. Wounded

Okay, so most people would be rather concerned if a half naked man with arrows pierced through his skin and spilling blood showed up at your door, but it's almost a given when you've been introduced to the world of supernatural creatures.

Human sized lizards with poison claws that are able to paralyze you for hours on end, and teenagers, who grow fangs with each full moon is how Stiles Stilinski found the out about the supernatural fantasy world. His best friend, Scott, had been bitten by an Alpha werewolf, causing him to become one. Stiles is the sticky adorable glue that holds Scott together, between his werewolf issues, teen hormones and his girlfriend, Allison, who by the way comes from a family of werewolf hunters.

With a new werewolf Scott, came the formation of a pack, Derek Hale, who was born werewolf, tried to teach Scott the art of being a shapeshifter. They've become brothers, almost. Albeit the kind with that love/hate relationship.

Derek bit Scott's school rival, Jackson, who turned into said human sized lizard, he can be at times considered pack. His girlfriend, who has also been Stiles' childhood crush since the third grade, Lydia, is human like Stiles and Allison. Immune some would call her, she was also bitten by an Alpha werewolf, but turned out she was unable to be turned.

Derek also bit three additional teenagers. Isaac, Erica and Boyd. The newest pack members.

Unlike normal packs, this one consisted of humans and werewolves, but they're all happy that way.

So when a wounded, shirtless, and attractive Derek Hale shows up on Stiles' door step, he shouldn't be too surprised.

Stiles lay on his living room couch with his legs stretched towards the ceiling and a book gripped in his hands. His dad was at work and that meant he had the whole house to himself for hours.

Normal teenagers would throw a party or maybe get high in the garage, but not the ones like Stiles. He had steady grades, he wasn't popular, no interest in drugs and not too many friends, just his few close ones. Apparently those kids read books when they have a whole house to themselves, or watched movies, ate too much food, marveled over collected comic books and occasionally invited a best friend over for video games.

Lazily rocking his feet back and forth as if he were tapping along to music as he chewed his lip, showed he was lost in his book. For a few minutes at least, interupted when he heard a knock. Or at least he assumed it was a knock, it sounded more like a thud, as if someone was throwing something soft and almost heavy against the door. Like rabbits.

Stiles made a face to himself, _Really? Rabbits?_ He was confused by how his brain worked at times. He stood and tossed his book to the floor, taking a moment to stretch before answering the door.

Pulling the door open almost stopped Stiles' heart, because a) blood was all over his door step, and that blood was coming from a shirtless man squatting, haunched over in pain, and b) because the man was Derek. Freaking him out partially because at times he could still be rather frightened by the alpha and also because he's secretly had a crush on the guy since they've met.

"Derek! What are you doing here?" Stiles frantically shouted, sticking his head out of the door making sure no one was around to witness the scene. Seeing the pitch black sky and small lights in the house windows ensured him they weren't noticed. Not yet anyways.

"Playing baseball." Derek sarcastically spat, looking up to meet Stiles' gaze.

Stiles rolled his eyes knowing it was a rather obvious answer. Clearly Derek came for his help. Noticing arrows sticking from the mans skin quickly told him how urgent the situation was and that he must hurry.

"Uh," he paused, turning around, looking quickly over the inside of his house, "wait here." He told Derek as he ran to his living room and grabbed a blanket off of the back of the couch and returned to the door.

Derek's face was impatient and rather irritated that he'd been abandoned for a blanket, but he didn't disrupt Stiles, who folded the blanket to make it longer as he placed it in the space between the door and the base of the stairs that lead to his room.

"Don't drip blood everywhere. My dad'll kill me." Stiles told Derek as he reached a hand down, offering to help Derek up, and was surprised when Derek took the offer. Noticing The mans hand was covered in blood made him almost gag. The feel of the red liquid being rubbed onto his skin was disturbing, but he tried his best to hide his disgust. Helping Derek was a little more important.

Derek used the weight of the teen to help himself up as he stood on shaky legs. Giving Stiles a quick glare before entering the house, he made sure to step on the blanket and used his hands the cover the dripping cuts.

They reached Stiles' room, where Stiles told Derek to wait. He rushed to a closet located in his hallway and frantically grabbing handfuls of towels. Returning to his room, he lay them out neatly on his bed where he gestured for Derek to sit.

"Is your dad home?" Derek muttered, wincing as he sat.

"No, he'll be gone for a few hours." Stiles replied, looking Derek over, "What happened? Why didn't you go to Scott?" He was honestly flattered by the fact that that he must have been important enough to come to, but why him? He's no werewolf, he doesn't always know how to deal with these things.

"Hunters." Derek breathed out, grabbing his arm. "Scott's not home. I think he's with Allison. He'd better be, or else she could be to blame for this." He sounded angry. Looking down he noticed an arrow sticking from his thigh, growling in pain as he grasped it with a tightened fist and wrestled it from the skin, growling.

It was taking Derek time to get used to Allison, because of the fact that they're hunters. Also because her aunt killed Derek's family. Or maybe he just had issues with her stealing Scott's attention so often.

So clearly Stiles wasn't the first choice, but better than nothing. "So why'd you come here?"

Derek looked back into Stiles' eyes, this time looking helpless and weak, "I need your help."

Stiles didn't even get to ask questions before Derek instructed him to get a pair of tweezers and any medical wraps and large bandages that he had.

Stiles did as asked, rushing to the bathroom and rummaging in drawers and shelves until he found as many first aid items as he could. _I'll just bring them to Derek, give him time to fix himself up then have him be on his way_.

He thought wrong.

He set the items on the bed beside Derek and stepped back.

Taking the tweezers in his hand, Derek looked to Stiles. He tried handing the tool to the teen.

"Wai- wh-" Stiles stammered, lifting his hands as a sign to say "no" _Derek can't be serious._

"You're not going to help me?" Derek sounded impatient.

"I thought I just did! I freaking let you in my house despite the fact that you're bleeding everywhere and I can't exactly explain that to my dad, and I brought you things you need!" He looked to Derek, really hoping he didn't need to perform some type of surgery.

Derek tried again to give the tweezers to Stiles, "I need a hand, here, take these."

Continuing to stare, unsure, Stiles began, "Can't I just get you to the vet and he ca-"

"Stiles!" Derek snapped, "I need help now!" He sounded weaker by the minute.

"Ok. Ok. Fine. What do I do?" He got on his knees and knelt before Derek, who still sat on the edge of the bed gripping the tweezers in bloodied fingers.

"Take these," Derek handed the tool to Stiles, "try to get into the cuts, take out any arrow pieces you can see. My skin will be irritable if it heals over them." He instructed Stiles.

Hesitantly, Stiles brought the tip of the tweezers to a small hole in Derek's forearm. "Don't you normally heal right away?"

Derek nodded.

"Is it because there's arrow pieces in it? Is that why it won't heal?" Stiles asked, hoping he'd buy himself some time before playing 'Operation' with Derek.

"I don't think so. It should've healed by now. I don't know what's wrong." He sounded almost sad, but it could've been the state he was in. "Just. Hurry, Stiles."

The tone in Derek's voice told Stiles how important it was to get the pieces out. He swallowed his fear and brought the tweezers into the wound. Sticking out his tongue, as he made a gagging noise, pressuring the tool further into the man's skin, he moved little pink fleshy pieces out of his way, cringing the whole time, until he felt a metal object deep in the cut.

Derek growled, causing Stiles to jump and fall backwards. "It shouldn't hurt either." Derek said, confused and in pain.

Stiles' heart was racing. "Here," he said, standing and reaching into his drawer, "bite this." He handed the man a folded t-shirt.

Derek looked to him doubtfully but slowly stuck the fabric into his mouth. He watched as Stiles knelt in front of him again, and when asked if it was okay to continue, he nodded and bit the shirt with pointed teeth.

Stiles got pieces from most of the wounds. One on the left forearm, right bicep, two were in his chest, one in his side and another was painfully placed on the back of his neck.

"I think that's all." Stiles said thankfully as he placed the bloodied tweezers on the floor beside him. He was glad that was done, definitely not something he planned on doing again anytime soon. "Shit." He said quickly after, looking to Derek's leg that was still slightly bleeding, blending in with his black pants.

"What?" Derek mumbled, eyes shut and weak.

"Derek. You're uh-" he paused, " you might have to take your pants off." He smiled slightly, _this should be fun. No, stop that, you can't have fantasies while he's in pain._

Derek stared at the teen, his jaw sharp, "No."

"Look, if you want the arrows out you'll need to take them off." He paused, "and I'd prefer you did it yourself." He added, lying to himself, he wouldn't mind assisting in the removal of clothes.

Derek sighed, trying to get himself up, "Fine. H- help me up." He struggled. "I shouldn't be this weak."

Stiles stood and placed Derek's arm around his shoulder as he slowly helped to bring the man to his feet. He stood behind him, arms outstretched and prepared to catch him if he tipped over. Stiles blushed as he heard Derek's belt drop to the floor. _Is this really happening? Is he really stripping in my room?_ His mind fluttered with hundreds of thoughts, half of which he tried to ignore.

Then went the pants. Stiles tried not to look, turning his head the opposite way to give Derek his space, but come on, taking a peek couldn't be that bad. Could it?

Derek slowly sat back down on the towel-covered bed and let out a shaky breath. "There." He grumpily said, giving an embarrassed look. Stiles was sure he'd be blushing if all of his blood wasn't seeping from his body.

Grinning, Stiles knelt again and got to work. There weren't as many wounds in his legs. There was one just above the knee, which neither enjoyed, Stiles saw the arrow tip lodged into a painful crevasse of skin and when trying to poke it loose with the tweezers, he only grossed himself out. Messing with the stuck shard made Derek snarl, which made Stiles squirm in fear and disgust, which also caused Stiles' shirt to be ripped apart by werewolf teeth.

Only two other wounds remained, one on the right thigh, and one on the left, which was closer to the alphas ass, so Stiles took advantage of placing his hand there, pretending it gave him a better advantage and he made sure to take his time on that one.

Derek was too dead to care. He probably didn't even notice. Stiles had to slightly shake him to get him awake enough to tell him what to do next. That's when Derek handed over medical tape and gauze pads with a shaky arm. Stiles grabbed the items and began opening the packages when he thought he heard a small "Thank you." from Derek.

Taking gauze pads and placing them over wounds to cover in tape took longer than Stiles had thought it would. He's pretty sure Derek was asleep by the time he finished, and since Derek was most likely sleeping, Stiles didn't mind taking his time, especially when he bandaged the legs.

He should feel wrong for having a damn-near naked guy in his room. He should also feel wrong for casually glancing to the guy's covered member and having the start of several fantasies enter his mind.

He opened a new package of gauze and placed it on Derek's knee. This job was no where near as disturbing as the previous one. With a focused face, he placed water-proof tape evenly over the bandage.

Stiles looked over his patient. He didn't do half bad. He actually felt proud of himself. He never would've thought he'd be able to remove items from under multiple layers of skin. "Derek." He whispered, tapping the dozing man on the shoulder, "Derek get up."

Sleepily sitting up and looking over his bandages, Derek said, "Thank you, Stiles." looking to the boy with grateful eyes. Stiles believed he meant it.

"No problem! You weren't a bad dog either, I didn't even have to muzzle you." He grinned, and surprisingly Derek grinned too.

"I think I should shower, if that's okay." Derek looked up and rubbed his hand in his hair, damp with sweat and hardened in clumps from dried blood. "Is your dad going to be home soon?"

Stiles looked to the alarm clock on his desk, "You're good. He won't be home for a while still."

"Help me get the shower ready?" Derek murmured, trying to wake himself still.

Stiles nodded, a little too fast. Derek must be feeling really bad to ask him for this much help, especially for something as easy as starting water for a shower.

Stiles started the water and grabbed fresh towels for Derek to use. He was mentally freaking out, but physically he kept his cool. When he turned around he saw Derek behind him, he now realized how naked the guy actually was, his underwear being the only remaining clothing. "Well, there you go." He smiled.

In his head, he was screaming to himself, _Don't look down. Do not look down._ That didn't work. If anything it made himself more tempted to do so. He quickly glanced over Derek's body, finding his eyes momentarily stuck on the bulge behind his underwear.

Derek must have noticed, seeing as he awkwardly huffed a laugh. Stiles had thought Derek's sleepy/wounded voice was kind of cute, but hearing the tired laugh sent the butterflies in his tummy racing and his face blushing. Derek looked slightly embarrassed, but made no movement to cover himself up.

Stiles cleared his throat, "I, uh, covered the bandages in water-proof tape, so you'll be fine in the, the, uh-" _why can't I remember_ _my words?_

"Shower." Derek smiled, finishing his sentence.

Stiles blushed harder, "Yes. That." He lifted his hand and motioned towards the door, "I'll be leaving now."

Stiles shut the bathroom door behind him and leaned against the wall. He let out a nervous sigh and shut his eyes. Is_ Derek Hale really in my shower? Is Derek freaking Hale really naked in my house? _He pinched his leg and winced in pain_, nope, not dreaming._

Stiles scurried to his room, trying to figure out what to do with himself before he completely freaked out. Noticing the crimson stained towels spread out on his bed he decided it'd be best to clean up. He lifted the towels carefully, avoiding touching the blood and carried them to the washer, throwing them inside and starting the machine. He returned to his room and collected wrappers from the gauze, tossing them into the small garbage can under his desk. The remaining items were then packed into their boxes and the tweezers were wiped down with a Kleenex. Looking at the red marks on them, he decided that wasn't good enough to get the dried blood out. He quickly washed them in the kitchen sink.

Stiles sat on his bed holding his ripped shirt. It was ripped beyond repair. He tossed it into the bin under his desk.

Thinking it through, he was actually glad Derek had come for his help. Albeit a bit sickening, he didn't mind cleaning out the arrow wounds. After all it was more interesting than his book. He couldn't quite figure out his emotions. Being beyond thrilled that Derek was in his house, he was also nervous and confused. Could Derek tell how much his heart raced when he saw the man? These feelings were new to him. He's never really crushed on anyone other than Lydia. And he's never crushed on a male. He just felt Derek was different. An exception. He just couldn't pin point how or why.

_I shouldn't think anything of the night's events. It's most likely nothing, Derek just needed assistance. Derek probably thought nothing of it, so neither should I_. _Derek probably doesn't even think of me in the same way anyways._

A loud knock snapped Stiles from his thoughts causing him to jump up from his bed. He ran from his room and fanatically made his way to the front door, thinking the noise came from a car, which could only mean his dad was home.

Looking out the window he saw the driveway was empty. His father wasn't home, which meant the noise came from elsewhere in the house. Considering there were only two people home and he knew it wasn't him who made the noise, he thought it be best that he checked on Derek.

Stiles made his way back up the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. No answer. "Derek?" He called and pressed his ear against the wood. All he heard was the water falling from the shower head. Slowly turning the handle, he poked his head inside, "Derek, you alright?" He knew Derek would be able to hear him that time, but again, no response.

Stiles fully walked inside of the bathroom that was now filled with warm swirls of steam. "Derek?" He called one last time. _Okay, okay, just open the curtain_. He lifted his hand to grab the curtain, pulling his arm back to his side just before he reached it. _It's an invasion of privacy!_ He reminded himself. _Then again, he's not answering. What if he's dead! Oh my god Derek Hale could be dead in my shower. Just check on him!_ He grabbed the curtain and slowly pulled it back. Derek's feet came into view, he was laying down. _He must've fallen. I knew he couldn't stand on his own._

Stiles reached into the shower and turned off the water before pulling the curtain fully open, revealing Derek's bruised and bandaged naked body. _Great._

Stiles tried his hardest to look at Derek's face, Derek's feet, or his chest, anywhere but his exposed member. _Is it rude to look at an unconscious man?_ _What he doesn't know won't kill him, right? Oh god. Wow, that's nice._

Stiles stood still, thinking. _What are you supposed to do when someone passes out in the shower?_ _I can't just leave him there, what if my dad comes home?_ He could attempt dragging him to room until he awakes, after all, his room was only one door over. Not knowing how much time he had, that's the plan he went with.

Squatting before Derek he tried to find how the hell he'd manage this. He grabbed both of the mans shoulders and tried lifting. Derek was a lot heavier than Stiles and bigger built, therefore harder to grab. He got the shoulders into the air. _Success!_ But when trying to drag him from the tub he found that Derek's body was too long to removed that way. _I could snap him at the knees, then it'd work. I mean, he'll heal, right? Never mind, thats sick._

He rested Derek's shoulders back down and rethought his methods. Next he found himself in the tub standing over the alpha, grabbing his shoulders from the front and attempting to lift him out that way. He got him higher than before, but couldn't find the strength to remove him with his own body in the way. While holding the damp Derek, Stiles accidentally allowed the man's member to brush against his jeans, far too close to his own alert part. _Oh damn. Don't touch him, Stiles, don't touch him._

Already holding the man halfway up he thought he could try getting Derek up to his full height.

Stiles' clothes were already soaked, which to him felt like he was being weighed down even more. Using one hand to hold Derek under the left arm, he used his free hand to throw Derek's right arm over his shoulder, holding them both upright. "I can do this." He said aloud to himself. He stepped from the tub, pulling Derek's weight onto his own body, managing to get him out of the tub. "Good God, you're heavy." He breathed out.

Stiles managed to drag Derek out of the bathroom and into the hallway. His muscles ached, the alpha was so much more heavier than he was, and the wet skin was hard to grip. Stiles struggled down the hall, wobbling to maintain his balance. Few times he had to hold Derek close to his body as he leaned against the wall, momentarily resting his muscles and catching his breath.

Managing to get both of them back to his room in one piece, Stiles dropped Derek on the bed. He stared at the naked man. _What on earth am I supposed to do with a passed out werewolf?_ Looking to the clock he calculated he had about half an hour until his dad was due home.

Grabbing a thin blanket from the closet in his room, Stiles carried it over to Derek and covered his body from the shoulders down. _What if I sat in bed with him? Is that wrong? I mean, it is my bed._

Stiles ran to his living room and retrieved his book from the floor, returning to his room and carefully crawling over Derek's body to sit in the corner of his bed. He sat a moment, nervously going over the fact that he was sitting next to a naked werewolf in his bed. How many people get to say that? Opening his book and finding the place he left off at, Stiles tried to focus on the words. Focusing seemed like such a hard thing to do, considering he saw Derek's resting face beside him. He lifted his book and blocked Derek from view, attempting to read again. No use, he could hear the mans soft breathing, and it was distracting. _Even his breathing is beautiful_. Stiles closed the book and lay himself on his side, propping himself up with his elbow and resting his head in his hand.

He stared at Derek's face, taking advantage of being able to actually admire his appearance without fear of making awkward eye contact. Derek's eyes were lightly shut, his long dark lashes resting peacefully on his high cheekbones. Thin pink lips were slowly drawing in air and releasing it again in steady movements. Stiles took a long moment to admire the werewolf's stubble, preferring when Derek had forgotten to shave. Without a second thought, the teen brought his hand to man's chin. Stiles brushed his fingers along the jaw line slowly, taking time to feel each prickled hair.

Derek drew in a long breath with his nose, startling Stiles and causing him to bring his hand back to his own personal space.

Derek's hair was still damp, strands sticking together in moist clumps as they fell over to rest on his forehead. The teen brought his eyes down to the blanket, watching as it curved over the muscles and took shape of the wolfs body.

Stiles' shirt and pants were still wet and he was getting a little cold. _How wrong would it be to curl under the blanket with him? No, no, I can't do that. That's wrong, he could wake up and see me and get angry and-_ he washed the image of Derek devouring his flesh from his mind.

Stiles spent another ten minutes laying in his bed next to Derek. He slowed his breath, trying to perfectly match it to wolf's, wanting to move in sync together. Their chests rose and then fell at the same time. Some strange part in Stiles' brain told him that he wanted to hug Derek. Just wrap his arms around him, or bury is face into the curve of neck with his eyes closed, using the senses of smell, feel and taste to explore Derek's body. He wanted to take his hand and slowly learn the shape of Derek's form, wanted to memorize the locations of the indentations and rises of his skin from the defined muscle. He wanted Derek to feel the same.

His fantasies were interpreted by thud, an unmistakable slam of a car door. His father was home. Stiles crawled over Derek and flew from his room.

Rushing into the living room and jumping over the back of the couch to land laying on the cushions, Stiles grabbed the TV remote and pressed the power button, wanting his father to think nothing unusual was going on. He clicked buttons on the remote, landing himself on the Discovery Channel as he heard a key fiddling at the door lock. "Hey dad, how was work?" Stiles called as be turned his head to the front door, watching his father step inside as he tossed his keys on the end table resting beside the doorway.

"Well, it was work." Mr. Stilinski mumbled, "Dealt with too many morons today." He took off his jacket and hung it on the banister of the stairs. "What'd you do today?"

Stiles chuckled at his fathers response then cleared his throat, "You know, I just read a book, watched some TV, caught up on a bit if homework. The usual."

Mr. Stilinski nodded as he yawned. "I'm heading to bed," he started up the stairs, "don't stay up too late, okay?"

Stiles turned the TV off, "I should actually get some sleep too." He said as he walked after his dad. He watched to make sure his father's door was fully shut before opening his own.

Derek sat up on his elbows with one eye open, looking at Stiles.

"Derek, you're awake." Stiles quietly said, grinning.

"I've been awake for a while now." Derek chuckled, "Ever since you stroked my face."

Stiles' eyes widened with embarrassment, now Derek knew he had watched him rest. With his cheeks flushing he said, "Uh, sorry about that. Why didn't tell me you were awake?"

Derek flashed his white teeth and his eyes softened, "I liked your touch." He shrugged, "It's relaxing."

Stiles felt his cheeks burning. _Oh my god. He liked me touching him. Maybe he does have feelings for me._

"Could you get the light?" Derek asked.

Stiles flipped the switch, leaving the room to be lit only my the moon. _Is he staying here? In my room?_

Derek pat the empty space on the bed beside him, inviting Stiles back to his place. Stiles walked forward, a bit hesitant at first, and crawled over Derek, reclaiming his space.

He sat up with his legs out before him as Derek lay back down, sighing contently. "How'd I get in here anyways?" He asked quietly.

"You passed out in my shower and I had to drag you out." Stiles responded, smiling.

"That explains your wet clothes." Stiles could hear Derek grinning back.

"Stiles." Derek whispered, and Stiles couldn't quite tell if it was a question or not.

"Yeah?" He asked nervously.

Derek placed a hand on the teens shoulder, "lay down."

Sliding himself into position, he allowed Derek's hand to help guide him. Derek had Stiles laying on his side facing away from each other. Stiles let out an anxious breath.

Derek sensed the uneasiness emitting the boy and lifted the blanket wrapped around his body. Scooting his body closer to Stiles', he wrapped the blanket around the both of them and rested his arm across the teens chest, hugging him close and resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles' mind screamed. _Oh my god, were hugging. We're cuddling. We're freaking spooning! It's just me and Derek. In my room. In the dark. While he's naked_. He remembered Derek's lack of clothing as he felt his bare member pressed into the back pocket of his jeans, making not only his mind scream, but his body too.

Stiles felt his stomach churn with excitement as he heard Derek's slowed breathing brush past his ear and down his neck. "I take it you'll be sleeping here tonight?" Stiles whispered.

Derek made a thinking noise before nuzzling his face closer to Stiles' neck. He kissed the boy behind the ear and continued down to the nape of his neck, soft, warm and affectionate pecks on the skin. Derek's lips then met the crevasse where Stiles' neck met his shoulder.

Stiles shuddered when he felt the parting of Derek's lips as a warm smooth tongue brushed his skin. He lifted his neck, allowing more room for Derek who very slowly began taking skin between his lips and then releasing it. _Is this really happening? This cannot be happening._ Derek licked his way back up to Stiles' ear and nipped at the lobe affectionately. That sent a bolt of excitement through the boy and he reflexively reached his arm back, grabbing Derek's bandaged knee

Derek chuckled, "Am I welcome to stay?" His voice was husky, arousing Stiles.

Stiles turned his head, looking to the man and placing a steady kiss on his lips, "If it were up to me, you'd never leave."


	2. Scarred

Stiles, Scott and Derek plan to retrace Derek's steps and go to where Derek was shot. They encounter another shooter and Scott and Derek are forced to fight him off, even in the conditions that Derek is in. Stiles is instructed to run from the scene, and while on his own he finds a shed filled with clues and hints to solving the mystery of Derek's un-healing wounds.

* * *

Morning came too early. Stiles awoke to the sun shining brightly into his room and the sound of a family of birds chirping loudly in the nearby trees. He grinned contently, finding himself tangled in Derek's strong warm arms, the mans face buried in the nape of his neck. Feeling the warm breath hugging his neck as he listened to the husky sleepy sounds Derek made as he slept let Stiles know he wanted to wake like this every morning.

Trying his best not to disturb the man, he turned around in his arms, rolling onto his other side so his head was pressed onto Derek's chest. Derek awoke, stirring slightly until he realized he was holding the teen. He looked down and grinned, "Morning." He deeply said.

The sound of Derek's voice made Stiles want to melt. "Sorry," he chuckled, "I guess I should let sleeping dogs lie."

Derek huffed a laugh, causing Stiles to let in a shaky breath of happiness. "What?" Derek asked with a smile in his voice.

Stiles looked up into Derek's face, his hand on the mans chest. He brushed his nose on Derek's chin stubble, "Nothing, just keep talking to me."

"Why?" Derek tightened his arms, squeezing Stiles.

"I can't even express how sexy your morning voice is."

Derek laughed, "I don't have anything to say." He kissed Stiles' lips slowly, inhaling him.

Stiles grinned while Derek's lips were pressed onto his own, "Well, this is cool with me too." He said before biting Derek's lower lip.

Sliding his hand under the thin blanket covering them both, Stiles rubbed his fingers in circles on Derek's shoulders, all the way down his back when he remembered the wolf was still naked.

Derek pushed his tongue between Stiles' slightly parted lips as he lowered his hands into the back pockets of the boys jeans, pulling their hips closer.

Stiles allowed his hand to travel to Derek's thigh, pulling in attempt to bring their hips even closer then they already were. Their members were touching, a pair of jeans being the only thing separating them.

A faint crashing noise brought Stiles' to pull his tongue back to his mouth and freeze. "My dad. I forgot he's home." He jumped from his bed, licking his lips, "Put on some clothes, if mine don't fit you may just have to wear yours." He told Derek before fleeing from his room and shutting the door behind him.

His father's room was empty. The left half of the queen sized bed had blankets folded over and wrinkled from being slept in, unlike the right side. The right side of the bed used to belong to Stiles' mother. The sheets and blanket were neatly in place and smoothed out to near perfection. Mr. Stilinski preferred it that way because she used to.

Stiles turned and left, walking quickly down the stairs. Peeking in the kitchen doorway he found his dad, "What was that noise?" Stiles asked as he walked into the room.

His dad stood in front of the table with a bowl in one hand and a box of cereal in the other, "I just dropped a few bowls." His dad told him, setting the bowl down and waking to the fridge and returning to the cereal with a gallon of milk.

"Sleep well?" Stiles asked, walking to the table with his hand in his hair and taking a seat, looking to his dad for a response.

"Well enough I guess." Mr. Stilinski stopped and turned to Stiles before putting the milk away, "Eating cereal?"

Shaking his head he told his father he wasn't hungry, receiving a surprised look.

"Really?" Mr. Stilinski asked in a teasing tone, "You? Not hungry?" He chuckled.

Shrugging, Stiles said, "I know, shocking isn't it?" He smiled, "I ate some snacks late last night."

Mr. Stilinski smiled, putting a spoonful of cereal into his mouth as Stiles made an excuse to disappear back to his room.

Derek was sitting on the edge of the bed with the blanket wrapped around his hips. He was peeling tape off the edge of the gauze above his knee, lifting the corner and frowning before sticking the tape to his legs again. His wounds didn't look fresh anymore, but they left scars.

"Derek!" Stiles frantically hissed, "Put some damn clothes on!" He grabbed Derek's jeans from the floor and tossed them at the man. "What's the matter?" He asked, noticing the look on his face.

His jaw was tight, he was clenching his teeth together, and his brow narrowed in thought, "I'm still not healed, Stiles. Something's not right."

Stiles grabbed a shirt from his drawer and tossed it next, hitting Derek in the face on accident, "Doesn't it ever take some time to heal? Maybe it's just taking a while longer than normal because pieces of arrows got lodged into the skin." Stiles suggested, shrugging while continuing to dig through his shirt drawer in case the ones he's thrown don't fit.

"We have to find out what kind of arrows they were and who they came from." Derek stood, grabbing his pants from the bed. He winced, "They kind of burn still."

Stiles shut his drawer and looked to Derek, concern drawn across his face. There has to be some reason why Derek won't heal properly. He's the alpha and should be able to heal at great speeds. Stiles made his way to the man who was sliding his pants on. "Well, Derek, I may be able to help with the pain." He stood only an inch from Derek's face.

Derek smirked, "Can you now?"

Stiles nodded, biting his bottom lip affectionately and softening the look in his eyes.

"What do you have in mind?" Derek's hand slithered to Stiles' rear, cupping it gently while pulling the boy closer.

Stiles brought his face closer to Derek's, their foreheads almost in contact, "Nothing special, just a little trick I picked up recently." Bringing his lips towards the man's as he lightly closed his eyes, Stiles brushed his bottom lip on Derek's to get a warm introduction to his mouth. The sweep of Stiles' lip was so gentle it very lightly tingled the skin.

Derek's uneven warm breath happily wrapped itself around Stiles' face before the alpha leaned in and snatched a feathery kiss.

Their moments were very slow paced, as if they were trapped in slow motion. Stiles used his lips to explore Derek's lips and neck, learning the scent and feel of the man's skin. He was slowly recognizing every crevasse and shape of the alphas thin lips. His tongue slipped inside of Derek's mouth and he slowly entangled his fingers in his hair.

"Just something you picked up, huh?" Derek breathed out as he brought their lips apart, his eyes still closed, "Whoever taught you that must be really good."

Stiles chuckled, biting his lower lip, "Ehh, he's okay" he brought his hand the back of Derek's neck.

Derek cringed in pain as Stiles' hand neared his wound. Stiles quickly brought his hand back to himself and softly apologized.

"It's okay. Look, I'll head home and get a change of clothes. Can you pick up Scott and meet me there? I can use his help in finding some answers."

"Are you sure you can make it home? Do I need to drop you off?" Stiles walked away from Derek and began picking up the shirts he'd thrown.

"No. I'll be fine. Go get Scott."

Stiles watched as Derek limped out of the window. He put away his shirts and rushed downstairs to explain to his father that he had to leave, saying him and Scott have a project that they've both forgotten about. Stiles called Scott and told him to be ready and on the way to Derek's house, he explained what had happened to the alpha the night before. Purposely forgetting to mention Derek got naked, passed out in the shower then cuddled with him naked in bed.

Derek was on his porch when Stiles pulled the Jeep into the front yard. His hands were in the pockets of his leather jacket and he was haunched over slightly, the wounds must've been irritating him. Stiles stepped from the car and walked to Derek, followed by Scott who mumbled that Derek didn't look so good. Derek had new clothes on, covering his bandages. Dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt under his signature leather jacket, which almost fully covered the gauze on the back of his neck. The whites of his eyes were dull and he was beginning to sweat.

"Derek," Stiles placed a hand on the mans shoulder, "you're not looking so good."

Scott chimed in, "Yeah, are you alright?"

The two stared at the alpha, concerned.

Derek was still bent in pain and strained to stand upright. "I'll be fine." He weakly said.

"Do you know of anything that could be preventing the healing? Maybe it was a special type of arrow?" Scott suggested.

Stiles tossed around an idea next, "Maybe it was a silver tipped arrow? Or it had wolfsbane in it?"

Derek shook his head, "The silver is a myth, it doesn't effect me. I thought it could've been wolfsbane, but pure wolfsbane would've killed me. Not left me useless and in pain." He mumbled.

The three stood on the porch for a minute, thinking in silence. The wind lightly blew now and then, rustling the leaves together until a couple would gently glide from the branches to ground to rest beside their fallen friends. The animals were busy, birds chirping loudly to one another from several trees away and the squirrels were digging in the ground to find food to fill their bellies.

"Do you have a plan?" Scott asked, breaking the silence.

Derek was still for another moment, "I was thinking we could retrace my steps. Search the area I was in when I was shot at. We may be able to find something, anything that could tell us who the shooter was. Once we find that out, we get the bow and figure out what type of arrow it was."

Stiles and Scott nodded, knowing he had no plans for what they'd do next. Agreeing with the plan, they followed Derek off of the porch and into the trees.

The three walked together in a line, with Stiles stuck in the middle. He watched Derek's eyes as they scanned the area, looking for anything familiar. Scott and Stiles followed silently to allow their alpha more concentration. Stiles hoped they would find what they were looking for before sun down, remembering Derek had been shot at night. He didn't their defenses lowered, and besides, he knew he wouldn't be able to help too much in the dark.

Stiles noticed Derek inching closer to him, their elbows and shoulders would glide across one another's a few times and at points even their hands did. Stiles wasn't sure if Derek was being affectionate, or leaning on him for support to walk in a straight line. Either way he figured the guy could use a bit of comfort and he slid two finders into Derek's palm.

"Well." Scott cleared his throat and smiled, "You two are awfully close. Where was I when you became best friends?"

Neither Stiles or Derek answered at first. Stiles kicked crumpled leaves with his foot as he blushed. Scott hadn't known the two had spent the night together and most likely didn't know that they shared mutual interests in a more-than-friends relationship. He looked to Derek then to Scott, "We're not that close. He's just hurt, 'ya know, limping into me for support." Stiles told himself that wasn't believable, and he knew for sure Scott wouldn't buy it. His thought was confirmed when Scott chuckled and winked at the two. There isn't too much one can get past a best friend, especially when your best friend is a werewolf. God damn werewolf senses.

The three walked for ten more minutes, swerving in and out of trees as they continuously scanned the woods before them. Stiles pretended Scott wasn't watching as he held Derek's hand tightly. Felling embarrassed that he'd get laughed at, or looked at in a bad way. But come on. This is Scott, his best friend of many many years, his closest buddy. They told each other everything and shared so many secrets and inside jokes. But he just couldn't risk criticism from him. He did however, let out a sigh of relief when Scott seemed unbothered by the innocent hand holding. Maybe Scott knew all along how he felt.

They came to an area where the tree trunks grew thin and scarce. The fallen leaves on the ground fell in numbers, leaving moist mud and broken sticks to support their steps. Derek stopped and looked around slowly and carefully, "Here." He whispered, looking to Scott to inform him to keep his senses alert.

"You were here?" Scott asked, looking around and listening intently to their surroundings.

Derek nodded slowly. "You hear that?" He whispered. Stiles assumed he was asking Scott, because he couldn't hear a damn thing.

Scott stood still, focusing to let his ears pick up a sound. He spun around fast and yelled Stiles' name.

Stiles turned around to face him, looking to see why he'd been yelled at. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again he saw Scott's fist in front of his face, gripping an arrow that had the tip almost in contact with his own forehead. Without his friend's werewolf reflexes at his aid, Stiles would've been dead.

Scott snapped the arrow and dropped it to the ground, it bounced once on the moist leaves before landing in front of Stiles' feet. Stiles looked up, finding Scott in werewolf form. His friend snarled defensively, his nose curling with each inhale of breath with his mouth, causing his teeth to show.

Next to him, Derek seemed as if he were trying to shape shift but was having a rather hard time. He grabbed his arm, where Stiles remembered a wound had been, and he squeezed, growling in pain and looking to the sky. With a sound that Stiles could only describe as a husky, angry bark, Derek managed to shift, and became the red eyed alpha, in a defensive position like Scott.

With the two wolves protectively at Stiles' side, he followed their gaze, catching the sight of a small black silhouette in the shape of a man, running the opposite direction, fleeing the scene. He must've been the shooter.

Derek and Scott snarled and Scott bolted after the man. Stiles stood still a moment, in shock. With hesitation he ran forward to catch up with the two.

The wolves were much faster than Stiles was, he wasn't sure which way they went but he kept heading forward, hoping he'd find them. He reached a point where the tree trunks grew fat again. The leaves still clung tightly to the thick branches, too stubborn to fall even with the bullying of the wind. The leaves clustered together to block the view of the sky, preventing the sun from reaching the forest floor or the life that inhabited it. Stiles slowed his pace, growing worried he was lost. With a dangerous armed man somewhere near by, he felt like a mouse trapped from its safe hole in the wall by a blood thirsty cat. Spinning his head in all directions and even turning around to be sure he wasn't being stalked, he caught sight of three small silhouettes in the distance. He crept forward, carefully watching his step and trying his best to avoid stepping on a twig that would vibrate a crack and attract attention in his direction. He was close enough to see Scott and Derek, standing defensively in front of the shooter. The man was too far for Stiles to make out any details, so he slowly stalked forward, sheltering his body behind a tree right behind his wolf friends.

The shooter stood with his bow in his hands, moving his aim between Derek and Scott and shouting to either that would step closer. Scott lifted his foot to take a step and the man didn't hesitate to send an arrow in Scott's direction. Scott's reflexes aided him to lower himself into a crouching position, just barley dodging the arrow that was aimed at his head.

While the man had his attention on Scott, Derek found his chance to get the man down. He ran at his full speed, knocking the man off of his feet and sent him crashing to the ground on his back.

The bow went flying from the attacker's hand and landed on the leaves. He sat up and crawled forward to retrieve it, his fingers just brushed the string of his weapon as Scott's foot came down on the wood, snapping the bow. The man hollered irritably and hardly managed to dodge a blow from Scott's claws.

"Arrows, Scott!" Derek yelled. Or attempted to yell, his voice was a bit hoarse.

Scott brushed his foot through the leaves, looking to see if an arrow had fallen with the bow, but failed to find anything.

The man now stood and retrieved a long knife from his boot and a shorter one from a holster on his hip. He was bent in a fighting position, one hand aimed to Scott and the other to Derek who limped pitifully.

From behind the tree, Stiles caught glances with the attacker, and the next thing he knew, the short knife was flying through the air, aimed at his head. Praying he would make it to safety in time he fell to squat behind the tree trunk. The knife landed a few feet away from him, skidding on the moist mud before coming to a stop.

Stiles' heart raced. He could've just died. Trying to control his breath, he closed his eyes, trying to focus, to control his pounding heart. A hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The hand grabbing him pulled him to his feet, that were trying to kick his way to safety. He drew his fist back to get momentum for a punch and opened his eyes to see Derek.

Letting his hand fall, he let out a quick sigh of relief, before concern masked his face. Derek wasn't look good at all. He was still sweating, his eyes were red- and not just the iris's due to being alpha, but the whites had a pink tint to them- and his head hung low, as if it were a struggle to keep standing. Stiles knew Derek shouldn't fight like this, and he wished Derek knew it too. "Dere-" Stiles began worriedly, being cuff off a second later.

Derek let go if Stiles' shoulder and whispered, "Go, Stiles! That way! Just run!" Pushing the teen's shoulder.

"But Derek!" Stiles protested.

"Go." Derek hissed, wishing the boy would just listen and not risk getting himself killed.

Stiles stepped backwards, his heart rapidly beating as he grabbed the knife and turned to run. He wanted to stay, although he knew as well as anyone else did that there was no way in hell he could keep up with his friends in battle, and even of he could, he couldn't do anything to protect himself or anyone else. He had no claws or teeth or speedy reflexes. He was practically useless. He just needed to make sure Scott and Derek made it okay, especially Derek, who's conditions were clearly worsening.

He wasn't sure where he was supposed to go, or how long he should run, but he told his legs to keep going. His legs took long quick strides, as soon as his toes hit the ground they bounced back up again, pressuring himself further. One thing was for sure, he was glad he had long legs. His breathing was fast and it was beginning to hurt his throat. He had no idea where he was when he slowed to a slight jog before stopping and bending over while resting his hands on his knees as he took in quick breaths with his mouth. He looked around, the forest was still and quiet, the only thing he could hear was the pounding of his heart and his sharp intakes of breath.

A little ways ahead of him, he noticed a small wooden shed. It looked a lot like Derek's house, but smaller. The wood was falling apart, leaving a few opened gaps in the walls. It looked as of it used to be painted, the surface of the wooden boards had a faded red tint on them, attenuated from rain and age. After walking closer, Stiles noticed on some spots you could actually see the chipped red specks. Putting the knife in his pocket, he slowly pushed the door of the shed open, looking around first to make sure he went unseen.

The inside of the shed was a lot more improved. Someone clearly used the space, and recently too, a lamp was lit on a large desk under the only window in the room. Old black shelves lined two walls with tons of books resting inside. Tons and tons of books. Stiles paced to the shelf on the back wall. Some books were clearly very old, their spines broken and ripped and their pages were turned brown from life. Others were new, firm spines and smooth covers with sharp crisp pages not often turned. Running a finger over multiple books, Stiles found they were coated in dust, minus a select few. Loose leaf papers were sloppily stacked in the leftover space and some even rested on the floor. About half of them were damaged in someway, either ripped, bent, crumpled, scribbled on with sketches or words, or just dirty.

The second book shelf had fewer books than the first. A globe with miniature red flags marking specific areas, and a few wooden boxes of multiple sizes, some with locks on them, took up remaining space. A silver sculpture caught Stiles' eye. He picked it up in a steady hand, cradling it to further examine the figurine. The object looked like an alpha werewolf. It had a long snout with bared teeth and erect ears, it's shoulders and chest were large and muscular, much larger than its hips. The figure had great detail in its fur, especially in the bushy tail. The figure also had red circles colored on the chest, near the heart, and on the forehead.

Stiles stood a moment, examining the miniature wolf, pondering what the circles could mean. He carried it with him to the desk to see what he'd find there.

The desk was neatly organized with a lot of paper and few books, along with bowls, plants and a mortar and pestle. Under a stack of books was a large laid out piece of paper. It's edges were ripped and the coloring was faded from use. A werewolf was neatly drawn on the center of the paper, the same werewolf as the figurine Stiles held in his hand. He held the statue next to the paper and noticed the red circles were in the same spots as the wolf in the drawing. Setting the wolf down, Stiles grabbed the paper, carefully moving the books holding it down, and being sure not to rip it as he did so.

The top of the paper had large black lettering in a calligraphic style, in words which Stiles could not understand. In parenthesis underneath the words shown, "Aim for the head and/or heart." Words also surrounded the drawing, with arrows connecting small paragraphs to points on the werewolf's body, but Stiles couldn't make any of it out, he assumed it was Latin.

Setting the paper down carefully off to the side, he picked up a book that was opened, revealing paragraphs upon paragraphs filled with information. Thankfully this book was written in English. "Wounding," Stiles read aloud to himself as he glanced over the bold heading of the left page.

"Wolfsbane can be used to reverse shapeshifting spells and has a folk tradition of protecting homes against werewolves." He continued, sounding intrigued. "Aconite- The dried root of Aconitum napellus , commonly known as monkshood or wolfsbane; a powerful and rapid-acting poison." He narrowed his brows, continuing to skim the pages.

He stopped as he skimmed over a picture of Wolfsbane, and looked to the desk to see of any of the plants there matched its appearance. There it was, wolfsbane tied in a bunch behind the mortar and pestle. Stiles looked back to the book and using his thumb he flipped through a couple of pages. With the pages being disturbed, a piece of folded paper poked its way into view. Flipping to the pages housing the note, he found pictures of several more plants, a few which had their names highlighted in yellow. The note was written in sloppy handwriting, and took Stiles a moment to make out some of the words.

" St. John's Wort," Stiles read aloud, holding the note tilted to the lamp for a better source of light, "A healing plant, can be used for bruises and sores.

Thyme, eases pain relief, can be used as an antiseptic and antidepressant. Witch Hazel, reduces swelling and relieves body aches and pains." Stiles looked to the pictures of the plants then to the ones resting on the desk. He found St. Johns Wort sitting beside a wooden bowl. Some petals were missing from multiple flowers and he found them in the bowl, mushed to small pieces, that were turning to a powdery texture as they dried under the light. The thyme was tied in a bunch, it's earthy green petals were drying out and withering to their death. Witch hazel was sealed into a jar, suffocating the lime colored spiny petals.

Stiles was confused. There were multiple healing healing plants along with a poisonous one. He didn't get what they were here for. He took the note of paper and flipped it over, finding more poor handwriting. "These healing plants effect the wolves too. They'll heal any external wounds that won't heal on their own. Most werewolves heal quickly with their own strength and won't be in need of the plants assistance." Stiles narrowed his browns and pursed his thin lips. The words "mix with wolfsbane" were circled on the corner of the note. Folding the note and returning it to its pages, Stiles looked again to the book.

"Preparing the mixture." Stiles said as he lifted the book closer to his face and studied the words in front of him. Neatly sketched out pictures were placed in order by steps that were to be taken. A drawing of a bowl filled with a fluffy powder being poured into a larger bowl read, "Crunch St. John's Wort until petals dry and form a floury substance." Looking to the table Stiles found the larger bowl, it wasn't filled, but it wasn't clean either, colored dust remnants layered the inside of the bowl.

"Thyme is to be added to St. John's Wort, an even amount, then mix gently. Three heads of Witch Hazel is to be crushed and sifted into the mix." The picture showed a hand sprinkling Witch Hazel crumbs into the bowl.

Stiles shifted his weight to his other foot, "Upon adding Wolfsbane to th-"

He was interrupted by a gruff and mysterious voice, "Lost, are we?"

Stiles dropped the book to the desk and stood upright, startled. A man stood in the doorway. He was about a head shorter than Stiles was, and heavier set, but his incredibly wide shoulders and menacing stance gave him a threatening advantage. He wore an oversized dirty and torn brown coat that fell to rest beside his knees. It looked like he hasn't shaved in some time, as a curly black beard, that was showing grey in few places hung sloppily off of his chin.

Stiles closed the book and stepped back, "No, no. I was just leaving." He motioned his hand towards the door, his only way out, which was blocked.

"Leaving? I'm sure you were here for something, what was it you were looking for? Perhaps I could help?" The man stepped closer, but still blocking the door.

Stiles shook his head, "I-I was just lost." When the man stepped forward again, Stiles stepped back.

The man left the door and leapt at Stiles, knocking him into the wall and placing a large hand around his throat. "What are you doing here? Are you one of them?" The man spat, literally.

Stiles was surprised by the short man's strength. He tried breathing evenly but from fear and a squeezing fist on his neck, it was hard. "One of who?" He stuttered, trying to suck in air.

"A werewolf!" The man sounded irritated by Stiles' response. "No. No, you're no werewolf, you're one of their helpers, aren't you? The men who assist a pack." The guy was thinking as he spoke.

Stiles had no clue what he was talking about, he never knew packs of wolves had human helpers, he'd never heard of it. "What helpers?" He wasn't sure if he should be asking questions or if he should just shut his mouth, but if he had no way to escape, he might as well as ask what he needed to know.

"No more questions, boy!" A knife was drawn from a holster on the man's waist and was now pointed at Stiles' throat.

Stiles swallowed, looking down at the knife then back to the face of the small man. "If you're going to kill me, I get to ask a few more questions." He bargained. He told himself he was out of mind, or just asking for a death wish if he were to talk back to a man holding a knife on his Adam's apple.

The blade slid across Stiles' neck lightly, a threat. "Fine." The man bared his teeth.

Stiles breathed out, relaxing his body slightly, knowing his life has been spared for a few minutes longer. "Why mix the plants? What's it make?"

The man pulled his knife away slowly, resting his hand on Stiles' shoulder, and standing on flat feet. With hesitation he answered Stiles' question, "Mixing the plants, the healing plants with the poisonous wolfsbane, will create a dry powdery material. Hunters down my family line created it. For years they tested and improved a poison to weaken a werewolf without fully killing it. Just this past century it was perfected, enough wolfsbane to almost kill the wolf, and enough healing plants to almost revive it." His smile was eerie, and his eyes were so dark that Stiles would've guessed the iris's had no color in them.

"Why wouldn't you just kill it?" Stiles asked, confused as he narrowed his eyes. His back was still pressed against the cool wall and he dare not move from his spot.

"It's a clever form of torture. We shoot the wolf in a poison covered arrow, and as I mentioned, the wolfsbane works to kill it. Just before the wolf can die, the healing herbs work to fix the creature back to full health. And before that happens, the wolfsbane kicks in again. It's a never ending cycle of near-death then resurgence." He smiled, proud in himself, "It really is clever though. With the monster weakened, it's whole pack grows weak. Weaker and weaker with the more we wound or the amount of time one has been effected with the poison. With the whole pack growing weak, the easier targets they become. It's pathetic really, watching them run around helplessly with their scars that weaken them at every moment." He huffed a laugh and Stiles moved his face backwards to avoid the hot breath. "Just the other day I shot one! Multiple times too, the foolish shitty creature. Soon I'll have it's whole pack's pelts." He laughed harder, pleased with the plan.

Stiles' throat tightened. He knew the man was referring to Derek. He wasn't happy that the man called Derek foolish or shitty, and he got defensive. He remembered the knife in his pocket and moved his hand to grab it. He grasped the handle and removed the knife, pulling it back to aim for the mans side.

"Ah ah ah," the man placed his blade on Stiles' throat again, that's not something you want to do." He brought his face closer, "I'd suggest you drop that."

Stiles held the knife in his hand tightly, he contemplated stabbing the guy, but he knew a short blade to the side wouldn't kill the guy, at least not as fast as the one on his own neck would kill him.

"I said drop it!"

Stiles let his fingers extend, dropping the knife to the wooden floor with a clink.

"That's better." A horrid smile spread across his face. "Now, before I kill you, any last questions?"

Stiles' eyes were threatening tears, but he managed to hold them back. He swallowed hard, and cleared his throat as best as he could while avoiding putting more pressure on the sharp knife on his skin. "Is there a way to cure it? Can he be saved?" He didn't realize he had said 'he'.

The man chuckled, "There is. I could tell you if y-" the mans eyes grew wide and his jaw hung loose as a small trickle of blood fell down his tongue and dripped to his jacket. His lifeless eyes remained opened as he fell sideways, harshly, to the ground.

Stiles looked up with terror in his eyes. In front of him stood Scott. His lips were curled into a snarl and his hand was held firmly, dripping with blood from the man. His clothes had blood beginning to dry, most likely his own mixed with that of the hunter with the bow.

Stiles looked at Scott, panic in his eyes. Dropping to the floor, Stiles grabbed the man by the sides of his large coat and jerked him upwards. The man was motionless, no breath left his body. Stiles' own breath was rapid as few tears managed to break their way free.

"Stiles! What are you doing?" Scott yelled pulling his friend off of the lifeless man, " I thought he was trying to kill you?"

"He was, Scott! He was! He knew the cure!" Stiles set his head into his hands, taking a moment to control himself.

"For Derek?" Scott was back to normal now, and speaking softly.

Stiles nodded, "Where is he?" He sounded worried.

Scott gestured to the door and followed Stiles as he left the shed. Derek was leaning against a tree trunk with fresh wounds from the battle. Stiles jogged over to him and knelt beside him, "How're you feeling?" He asked looking over Derek's hurt body.

Derek looked Stiles over, "Are you hurt?" Stiles shook his head, letting Derek know he was okay. "Then I'm doing alright." Derek grinned weakly.


	3. Healed

Two days had passed since the misadventure in the woods. Despite Derek, who was so weak he could hardly stand on his own two feet, Scott, who nearly lost his head and Stiles, who's throat came close to being sliced open, they managed to find what they were looking for. At least most of it.

Stiles shared the information he had found, explaining the whole master plan the hunters had created. Scott and Derek listened intently to their rambling friend, holding all of their questions in their heads so Stiles' wasn't interrupted, assuming he'd lose his train of thought. When Stiles paused and looked worriedly to his friends, Derek asked hopefully how he could be cured. Stiles hadn't answered right away, he looked to Scott, who's face was frosted with guilt, then back to Derek, telling him, "There is a cure. And I'm going to find it for you."

When the three left the scene, Derek insisted he go home. Scott and Stiles tried convincing him that he shouldn't, telling him he's vulnerable prey for any hunter nearby. Derek sharply replied that he'd be fine on his own but came to an agreement with his pack mates when they said they'd take turns checking in on him.

Stiles was sure to grab a handful of books and drawings from the shed. With his stack of books in hand he told Scott he'd be going home to read in hopes of finding the cure. Scott, who was still coated in guilt, told his friend he'd be there to help.

Stiles sat crossed legged on his bed while inattentively chewing on the cap of a yellow highlighter. Books were stacked beside him and others were laid out in front of him with their pages up willing to share their secrets with the determined teen. Scott sat on the floor with his back pressed into the side of Stiles' mattress and he too, had a book opened in front of him. Scott looked distracted and bored, his frequent irritated sighs and eyes that were beginning to feel heavy, gave away how tired he was. This was their second day studying the content of the hunter's books, and they were about to hit their third hour of reading for that day. Several times Scott suggested they take a break, and few times Stiles concurred with his friend, while other times he demanded they keep up the research, saying that they owe it to Derek.

Scott looked to the digital clock beside Stiles' bed and commented, "It's eight o'clock." In a monotoned voice.

Stiles looked up from the book pressed up to his face and looked to follow Scott's gaze. Eight o'clock meant its been two hours since the last time they checked on Derek.

"It's your turn." Scott stood, tossing his book to the floor and stretched.

Stiles slid off his bed and yawned, walking to his desk where his hoodie lay folded over the back of his chair. As he began putting his jacket on Scott crawled into his bed, pushing books out of his way before flopping dramatically onto his stomach.

"What do you think you're doing?" Stiles questioned his friend in a jocular manner.

Scott grabbed Stiles' pillow and fluffed it up before placing it under his head, "Taking a nap while you're out, we've been at this for too long, my eyes need a break, man."

Stiles huffed an attempted laugh and zipped his hoodie, "You should be interested, you might learn a thing or two about yourself in those books." He felt his pockets for his car keys and glanced around quickly when he felt they were empty.

Scott chuckled, "Things like what? How to kill myself?" His eyes were closed as he hugged the pillow lightly.

The car keys were waiting on the desk when Stiles found them. He scooped them up and shoved his hands into his pockets, "I'll be back later then," he opened his door and caught Scott mumbling, "Take your time, please." He shut the door and sighed irritably, finding the answers he needed took longer then he'd imagined.

With Derek being so weak, Stiles didn't bother knocking on the door, he invited himself in as he had the previous times he'd visited to check in. "Derek," he called after pushing open the old wooden door.

Derek's house was dark and still as usual. The house belonged in a horror film. It'd be that obscure room where an unintelligent victim would run to hide out and later get decapitated or something. Shadows masked over other shadows giving the threateningly quiet house a spine tingling chill if you hadn't seen it so many times.

The room that could've years ago been considered a living room, although now it appeared to be more of something that resembled a shipwreck, is where Derek was found. His back was towards Stiles and he was sitting in a faded grey chair.

"How're you doing?" Stiles asked as he approached Derek, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

Derek huffed, not bothering to turn and face Stiles. His knees were against his chest and he was wearing new clothes, hiding his scars and giving him an almost fresh look, in exception to his face. Just looking at the face of the poor wolf you could practically feel the pain he was in. His eyes were tired and red, and slightly swollen from lack of rest, his forehead and cheeks shimmered as if he were sweating even though he no longer was and his facial hair was starting to fill back in.

"Feeling alright?" Stiles tried again.

"This is pathetic." The grumpy wolf mumbled.

Stiles removed his hand from Derek's shoulder and rested it in his pocket, "We agreed you needed to be checked on, Derek." Stiles already knew what was bothering the alpha, he's been sulking for two days, like a child who who couldn't get his way no matter how hard he tried.

"Yeah, I know." Derek snapped facing Stiles as he turned. He sighed.

Stiles lowered himself to the dusty floor and sat cross legged, looking up to Derek who had began speaking.

"It's just, I shouldn't need this. I shouldn't need a babysitter. I'm the alpha of the pack, I'm supposed to be the strongest." He looked sadly into Stiles' eyes. He felt pathetic, he'd spent his whole life growing up being the baby-wolf. His family was stronger than he was. They were always more experienced and they always knew what to do. His family was full of great leaders. Being the young wolf, or Small Teeth as Laura would sometimes call him, never gave him the chance to shine and show everyone what he could do. Growing up, the most important thing to him was his image in the family, he wanted to prove he could be alpha someday. After their deaths he had no one to prove his strength to. Creating a new pack only proved how bad of a leader he actually was. He tried impressing the new wolves, tried to teach them, be the idol in their lives but all he managed to show was how unstable and abandoned he really was.

Stiles brought his knees to his chest and hugged them closely, "Okay, first, I'm not your babysitter. And second, you're a great alpha!" He tried boosting the wolf's self esteem, "Look, just because you got hurt it doesn't make you any less of leader. You're still strong."

"The rest of you will continue to grow stronger and I'm just sitting here useless!" Half of his face was hidden in shadows and through the black you could see the red of his eye. He shifted in his seat, bring his knees down.

"If it helps to make you feel any better, I'm not growing stronger unless I work out and that's not going to happen any time soon. You're not useless anyhow." He tapped Derek's knee, "You may not be able to help us physically, but that's not all that matters. You know more than us and the books, and you'll be able to guide us. You're a good leader."

The compliment boosted Derek's self esteem a bit, Stiles told him the things he needed to hear to get his mind in check.

Stiles lowered his knees and scooted forward until he bumped into the chair that Derek sat in. Looking up to Derek he cocked his head slightly to side, "Done feeling bad for yourself?" He lowered his neck and pressed his forehead into Derek's knee.

Derek placed a hand in the boy's hair, running his fingers in small circles, "If I say yes, does that mean you'll have to go?" He felt pathetic just saying it.

Stiles smiled, "I'll hang around with you a while longer. Besides I'm sure Scott will appreciate it." Chucking he lifted his head and looked to Derek.

Derek's eyes were flashing between his alpha red and his normal blue coloring, trying to control his strength. Stiles grunted as he stood and dusted the dirt from his pants. He took a seat on the arm of the chair and placed an arm around Derek's shoulder, "Derek, I should go, you need sleep. It may help."

Derek brought his hand to Stiles face and cupped his cheek. Their foreheads came together with the guide of Derek's long fingers, "Thanks."

"Just promise me you'll sleep?" Stiles whispered quietly in a begging tone as his eyes fluttered shut.

Derek hummed a promising tone and placed a slowed feathery kiss on Stiles' lips, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Stiles returned home to find Scott fast asleep in his bed. The books had been knocked off of the mattress and now rested on the floor, most likely from Scott kicking in his sleep. Stiles gently tapped his friend on the shoulder and when he saw his eyes flutter open sleepily he grumbled for him to scoot over. Scott groaned and turned so his face was towards the wall and his back was to his friend who had woken him. Stiles placed tired hands on Scott's back and shoved him until he woke again and moved to make room for the two to fit. As soon Stiles' head hit the pillow he drifted into sleep.

The next morning, Stiles awoke from Scott tapping on his forehead. His friend informed him that he was on his way to check and Derek and he needed to borrow the Jeep. Blinking his eyes slowly and running his hands down his face, Stiles motioned to the car keys then began picking up the fallen books. When Scott left, Stiles began his research. The words quickly began bleeding together and he found it hard to concentrate. His eyes were sick of seeing the yellowed paper with so many small black words that seemed to become rows of thick black blurry lines. He wanted to stop reading the books, surprisingly the old-book smell had recently been giving him a headache. His eyes craved anything but reading, and video games is what he chose to reward his hard work with.

Nearly half an hour later, Scott frantically opened the door to Stiles' room and stumbled inside. "I checked on Derek, he's not waking!"

Stiles and Scott drove back to Derek's house in a hurry. Scott was right, Derek was out cold. Out hot would be a better way of explaining it actually, his body heat was far too high, even for a werewolf. The two friends stood over their alpha contemplating what to do. Stiles paced frantically while waving his arms about crazily. Derek lay on the dusty wooden floor in an uncomfortable position. Scott shook Derek and shouted for him to wake before looking to Stiles and telling him to calm down.

"Calm down? Derek's probably dead and it's all my freaking fault!" His pacing grew faster.

"He's not dead! He's breathing."

"What do we do with him then?" Stiles worriedly asked.

As Scott was squatted beside Derek he placed his head in his hand, thinking hard. "Deaton?"

Stopping his pacing, Stiles mimicked his friend, "Deaton? Your boss?"

"Yeah!" Scott stood almost excitedly, "I mean, he knows about werewolves, he's helped us before, he could know what's going on now too, couldn't he?"

The boys agreed giving Dr. Deaton a visit could be a wise choice. With supernatural strength from Scott, Derek was uncomfortably placed in the back of Stiles' jeep.

Deaton was in an examination room in the back of the building when the boys entered. Scott called out his bosses name and followed the sound of the voice that responded. The two boys found him removing stitches from a young Labrador Retriever laying limply on the cold metal of the table. His head was down, focused on his work.

"What can I help you boys with?" Dr. Deaton asked as if they were common patients of his.

Stiles stepped forward, curiously looking down at the dog as Scott answered, "We need your help." He said in a hushed voice, and after a brief moment added, "Supernatural help." He looked out the door to make sure no one would catch the conversation.

"Ahh," Deaton slid his gloves off and set them in the sink with a soft thud, turning to his visitors before asking, "Stiles, would you mind getting the door?" His head bobbed in the doors direction. The room was still, quiet and cold. When no one was speaking a small buzzing sound was vibrating in their ears, bringing the room to feel almost intimidating or awkward. "What seems to be the problem?" His hand fell to the furry golden shoulder of the dog.

"Derek was shot." Scott started, "He won't heal, a special poison was on the arrows he was shot with," Scott paused and looked to Stiles who took a moment to retrieve a folder piece of paper from his pants pocket. He handed the paper to Deaton, showing him the notes he and Scott had taken, including the plants used in the poison.

"He's been weak but this morning we found him unconscious, he's not waking." Scott finished, his voice nearly echoing in the small room.

Dr. Deaton stood silently, observing the note. He hummed a tune of remembrance and lifted his hand from the dog and placed it lightly on his chin, "Yes, I've heard of this before. The poison hunters created to weaken and wound werewolves." His tone perked up, "Makes them easier to catch, you know."

"We know all of this." Stiles chimed in, "We need the cure." He didn't mean to sound so demanding, but he couldn't help but to think they were running out of time.

"The cure for this specific poison is to perform something called a Curative Circle." Turning, he laid the paper down on his desk and flattened it under his palm arching his back as he leaned in closer to the words, "Is Derek at his house? We could quickly drive to see him so I could take a look at his wounds, it'll help me know how much to measure for the ingredients."

Stiles ran his hand through his hair, "Actually," he paused, knowing what he'd say next was a bit awkward, "he's in my trunk."

Deaton turned, a look of concern and disbelief on his face as he looked to both of their faces, "I guess we'll go take a look in the trunk then." An unsure tone itched at his voice.

Scott and Stiles stood patiently on either side of Deaton while he examined Derek. He carefully lifted the gauze that needed to soon be replaced, and looked closely at the scars that branded the wolf's body. Small humming noises were made from the back of his throat as he continued to inspect the skin. Stepping back and brushing his hands over the front of his white work coat, he said, "I'll get you what you'll need." And at that, Stiles shut the trunk and followed back to the examination room.

The dog still lay motionless, the slow rise and fall of its fuzzy rib cage was the only movement in the room. Deaton cleared his throat as he approached his glass cabinets, "I should have everything it calls for," he spoke to himself while grabbing jars filled with animal care products and setting them on his counter to move them out of his way. A large wooden box was revealed in the back of the cabinet and he pulled it out slowly. The box was then placed on the counter and dusted off before the lid was removed, exposing several jars that were packed neatly into place. One by one Deaton removed them and examined the dirty labels before setting them down. Jars of mountain ash, wolfsbane and several other plants were pulled from the box, as well as a few candles.

"The Curative Circle is pretty quick and simple," Deaton stated as he started his explanation. "It uses only few items and works quickly, he'll be healed in no time." He grabbed a jar and brought it towards Scott, who took it in careful hands, "Black Amethyst. Interesting fact, it could be used to remove radiation the body stores on the sides of the head, such as from computers and such. It's an amazing all around healer and also a brilliant meditation crystal."

Stiles lowered his head to peer through the glass in Scott's hand, the dark stone had been crunched to tiny pieces, so tiny they looked like dust or sand.

Stiles was handed a jar next. He lifted the jar to be leveled with his eyes and looked inside curiously. "Is this just water?" He asked shaking the jar and making the clear liquid inside swirl up the walls of its cylindrical container.

"Gem water." Deaton happily said, "Gem waters are one of the simplest forms of crystal magic, yet at the same time are very versatile and effective." Turning back to his box he added, "It started as just water. Crystals are added and cleaned, leaving their magical abilities behind." He turned his head and nodded to the jar Stiles held tightly, "That one there is pretty strong."

Stiles gave an intrigued hum as he looked down at his jar then to Scott who stood shaking the black amethyst near his ear to entertain himself with the noise the small hard pieces made against the glass.

Both boys directed their attention to Dr. Deaton when they heard a frustrated, "Oh no." Deaton held a jar in his hands that was turned to its side with the opening aimed to his searching eye.

"What's the problem?" Scott asked alarmed, setting his jar on the table with a clink behind the dog's back.

Deaton closed his jar, "It appears I don't have enough of this."

"What is it?" Scott walked to the side of his boss and looked into the glass.

The jar was set back in its box as he answered, "It's called Meliorative Revivify. The last thing we need for the circle to work."

Stiles walked to stand behind the two, "Where can we get more of it?" He worriedly asked.

Deaton sighed, "I know a man who works with a private institution. The building is used for the making of heavy machinery and weapons, bomb making is what they typically do. Meliorative Revivify is kept there along with their gun powder and other things of the same nature." He turned and leaned his back against the counter, "A friend of mine supplies me with few items privately but it would take a day or so to get some more. I don't think Derek should stay like this for too long."

"We'll go." Stiles quickly volunteered, shrugging his shoulders to show he it wouldn't bother them to go out of their way for the last item.

Deaton shook his head, "I'm afraid you can't. You see, no one knows I borrow their materials, we'd all get in trouble if you were to go for it. I've never even been to the building myself, my buddy and I meet about half way."

"We can't wait a few days," Scott disappointingly said, thinking for another alternative.

"We'll break in. We have to," Stiles demanded, "we'll go unseen, grab what we need and we're good to go!" He knew the plan was easier said than done, but he also knew they needed the Meliorative Revivify as soon as they could get it.

Deaton didn't appear to like the idea, his brows were pulled together with concern, "It's awfully dangerous." He spoke timorously.

Stiles threw his hand over Scott's shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze and a small shake, "Are you kidding? I've got a guard dog here!" He smiled and winked at his friend who punched him lightly in the arm in return.

It was a moment before Deaton answered, "You two must be careful," he emphasized, "I'm serious." He squatted and fumbled in a cabinet under the sink, "Scott, I need you to look after you both, it could get you two landed in a lot of trouble." He paused and glanced up, worry rang in his voice, more so than before, "A lot of trouble." He stood and took Stiles' hand placing something inside before folding his fingers over the object, "You can hold onto this, it may not be needed, but just to be sure you'll be okay on your own in there."

Stiles uncurled his fingers and looked down at the small black cylinder object in his palm, "What is it? Some supernatural thing?"

Deaton laughed, "Actually, it's just pepper spray."

Deaton gave the boys directions to the building they'd be headed to. Although he'd never personally been to the location itself, he had mental directions supplied by his friend. During past conversations. Deaton remembered inside information that happened to slip from his friends mouth, things he thought could be useful to Scott and Stiles. "Security is almost always pretty tight, especially on the main floor. Security cameras are on at all hours, near almost every door and every window. I've heard one window on the third floor has no camera on the opposite side."

"Which window?" Scott asked trying to begin a game plan.

"I've heard it's the only window on one side of the building, the only window where the third floor would be."

"Then that's where we'll enter," Scott said confidently.

"I really hate for you two do go through with this." Seemed like it'd be good enough to get Scott and Stiles to change their minds, but it wasn't enough.

"We have to." Was Stiles' intrepid answer. He knew they'd be risking their lives with yet another dangerous act but by now it was their thing, facing death and getting away with a gasping laugh. They're pros at this sort of thing by now.

"Fine." Deaton hesitated, "I do mean it when I say to be careful." He watched the boys head to the door, "Hurry back,"

The wheels of the Jeep rolled to a slow stop beside thick trees on the side of the road. The building was near a ten minute walk away but as Deaton instructed they couldn't leave the car in plain sight. The sun was set and the moon was out, surrounded by tiny stars pricking through the black mask of the sky. Stiles and Scott stepped from the Jeep, both being hit in the face with a warming gust of wind that tried to carry away tuffs of their hair or just pull on their hoodie strings. They walked around to meet at the front of the car, sliding their shoes on the soft dusted dirt. Once they hit private property the concrete disappeared and became a partially hidden dirt road.

"You ready to do this?" Scott asked, zipping his hoodie until it hugged his neck.

"If I can play Batman for once." Was Stiles' bargained answer, "I'm not just sitting back to watch this time." With an exchanged laugh they began their walk to their mission.

They came to a tall chain linked fence topped with barbed wire.

"Okay Batman, you climb on up there and let me in from the other side. Think you can handle it?" Scott asked with a smirk.

Stiles lifted his head and looked to the top of fence, it was very high. He knew he could climb it, he's a great climber, but what would he do when he reached the barbed wire? He'd be torn up! He narrowed his eyes and glared at Scott, "Fine, I'll be Robin. Again." He finished with an eye roll. And when Scott replied with a humored laugh he hit his shoulder and shoved him towards the fence, "Just unlock it you ass."

Once closer to the building they saw several cars in the parking lot including a couple police cars. The outside of the building was quiet and dark, the only life coming from a small light above the front doors. Lights were shining through the windows showing people were at work inside.

"This way," Scott whispered as he set off to find the single window.

The two rounded the building from afar, staying in the shadows for protection. The familiar feel of adrenaline was already beginning the hit their bodies, alerting their senses.

"There," Scott hissed while crouched hiding in a shadow, his eyes glowing yellow in contrast with the darkened light. Stiles" eyes followed his gaze to find rows of windows lined along the brick wall, one row housing one lone window.

"That's it," Stiles confirmed with an excited grin. "Wait." His facial expression changed drastically, "How the hell do we get up there?"

Scott's eyes scanned the wall to looks for a way up, "There?" He suggested as he crept closer to the bricked wall.

Stiles anxiously looked around before heading after his friend. The building was so much bigger up close. The rows and rows of multicolored bricks stretched to the sky above them, they couldn't even see the roof from where they stood. Stiles curiously watched as Scott grabbed hold of the metal gutter that slithered down the building and curved when it touched the ground.

"What are you doing?" Stiles gasped when Scott pulled himself up with his arms and placed his feet flat against the brick.

Sliding his body up one hop at a time Scott replied as if his idea were whats natural to do, "Climbing the gutter, you coming?"

Stiles exaggerated a laugh, "With what upper body strength?" His hands were on his hips looking up with unsure eyes as his friend inched higher and higher.

"You're strong enough," Scott encouraged with a friendly voice glancing down with glowing golden eyes, "You're great at the rock climbing we do in gym." He reminded.

Stiles placed his hands on the gutter, "When I have a wire to hold me." He mumbled. With an uneasy swallow he tried his hardest to pull himself up high enough to get his feet flat on the wall.

"Just use the friction in your shoes." Scott called down.

Mumbling under his breath as he pressed his toes into the brick, he inched upward. Tilting his head he watched as Scott hopped from the gutter and landed his hands on the concrete sill of the window. With great upper body strength he pulled himself onto the thick sill and pushed open the window that was thankfully unlocked.

Stiles' eyes widened and he quietly called, "If you think I can do that, you're insane!"

Scott relied with a chuckle and an, "I'll help you."

Slowly but surely Stiles pressured on, digging his toes into the wall and pulling himself up with his hands. He gripped the gutter tightly with his right hand and pulled his weight in, bringing a dangerous creak to vibrate through the metal. Stiles' heart picked up speed as he froze in his spot, "Scott!" He hissed, "Scott, I think it's breaking!"

Scott leaned his body out of the window. Panic for his friend rang in his voice, "Climb faster!"

Stiles snapped out of his deer-in-headlights look and quickly gripped the metal gutter with his left hand, using his bicep muscle to lift his weight higher. The small hop with his feet made the gutter snap in two. Slowly it threatened to bring Stiles to the ground with it, tilting backwards and popping the bolts holding it in place.

Stiles quickly leapt from the metal piece that was seconds from snapping in half. With his feet dug into the brick he pushed himself upward, grabbing the other half of the gutter, the half that was secure to the wall. His hands nearly slipped from their place but he managed to hold his grip as his scrambling feet felt for the wall.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted quietly enough that they wouldn't get caught.

Stiles looked up to see Scott's outstretched arm with his hand opened and waiting, offering to help him.

"Are you crazy?" Stiles shouted back worriedly, probably a little bit too loud, "I can't jump that high!"

"Trust me, Stiles!" Scott's voice was shaking slightly, "You can't hang there much longer!"

Stiles' hands slipped down due to his now sweaty palms and he squeezed tighter to keep himself from falling to his death. He looked up with a worried gulp that burnt his throat. His foot managed to get caught on a brick, being just enough to push himself up to jump from the gutter. With his eyes shut he placed his life fully into the hands of his best friend. His body left the metal that threatened him, and he flew in the air towards the sill of the window. His eyes opened quickly when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. Scott had managed to grab him. Stiles quickly wrapped his long fingers around Scott's wrist and gripped tightly as his body was slowly pulled to safety.

Both boys stood in the hall of the third floor gasping and smiling with adrenaline. Stiles was bent over with his hands clutching his knees, holding his body from collapsing to the floor because his muscles weren't feeling strong enough to hold him upright. The slight smile he had widened across his lips and he broke out into a small laugh, joined by Scott's own laughter.

"Okay, never scare me like that again," Scott breathed out and looked out of the window to the fallen gutter.

"Trust me, I don't plan on it." Stiles' smile faded as he grabbed his right bicep, "Remind me that I need to work out more." His face crinkled in pain.

Scott turned away from the window and looked down the hall, "I'll get you a membership to the gym for Christmas. C'mon, lets go."

The halls were empty as far as they could tell. Faint thumps were heard from the floors underneath them as the men worked below them. The walls were coated with a plain cream paint, just a few shades lighter than the floor boards hugging them. Grey carpeting masked the floors, not exactly matching the walls. The place felt like a nursing home or doctors office. The boys were careful to notice the security cameras turning robotically back and forth on the walls and thanks to Scott's wolf like cunningness they managed to get by unseen.

There weren't many rooms on the third floor. Only few thick wooden ones and maybe a metal one here and there tattooed with signs of all sorts. As they walked a metallic smell made itself noticeable to their noses, emitting from behind closed doors. The room they needed wasn't as hard to find as they thought it'd be. Just as Deaton instructed, the door was across the hall from a single and boring plotted green plant and was marked with a red "DO NOT ENTER." Sign. Laminated paper listing safety precautions and warnings of carrying an item that produces fire was also stuck to the doors front. Thankfully it was unlocked. Stiles followed Scott inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

Incandescent lights hung from the ceiling and bounced off the walls, lighting the room up so much that it hurt Stiles' eyes. The shelves and desks were all made of metal and each held multiple containers.

"We'll split up." Scott said, "You go that way and I'll go this way." He finished with a bob of his head to direct Stiles. And with that the two parted. Stiles opened the drawers in the desk and searched inside for what Deaton said would marked with "Meliorative Revivify". Scott went behind the shelves and looked at the fronts of the plastic containers to read their labels.

"I think is it!" Scott called as he pulled a container off of its shelf and set it on the ground,squatting beside it.

Stiles neared his friend and watched as he removed the lid fastened to the box, revealing bags upon bags filled with a tiny sand like substance colored black, just like the blank amethyst. Scott grabbed two bags and tucked them inside of his hoodie.

"Good, now lets get out of here." Stiles said, taking the lid from the floor and returned it to the top of the box.

"Shh!" Scott motioned his arms up to Stiles, "Wait a minute."

Both boys froze as they heard the click of the door being twisted open.

"Scott!" Stiles whispered frantically as he fell to the floor beside his friend, "What do we do?"

Scott silently lifted the box back to where he found it, "Go around this way," he slowly crept towards the end of the shelf while still on the ground, "run for the door, don't let them see your face," he instructed as he placed his hood on his head and pulled it around the sides of his cheeks to mask as much of his identity as he could. Stiles did the same. Slowly and quietly they moved around the shelf, avoiding the voices of the two men that entered. The men neared the back of the room and Scott took it as an opportunity to run for the door.

Stiles panicked and chased after his friend, leaping towards the door to escape before being seen. His shoes clapped against the floor and caught the attention of the two men.

"Hey!" The taller man shouted with a husky voice, "What're you doing in here?"

Both men ran towards Stiles and he bolted for the door. He caught sight of Scott down the hall and he followed after him. An alarm was sound and red lights flashed on the ceiling. "Scott!" Stiles shouted as he picked up full speed to catch up.

Scott turned the corner and crashed into a man in a long white jacket, knocked off balance, he fell to the ground. stiles came to a halt, skidding on the carpet just before running into the man as well. Scott crawled forward before leaping to his feet and turning to Stiles, who had a panicked look in his eyes.

"You shouldn't be in here!" The man in the white coat shouted, reaching his arm out and grabbing the front of Stiles' hoodie.

Stiles tried to squirm away but the mans firm fist had a tight grip. Dropping his hands to his front pocket, Stiles fumbled for the pepper spray from Deaton. He glanced down at the object, making sure it wasn't aimed his way and pushed the cap. Stiles jumped back when the mans hand released his jacket and clapped over his eyes. Stiles threw the small bottle to the ground and ran towards Scott who frantically stood waiting, leaving the pained shouts from the man behind.

Scott lead them down the long hall with the buzzers and the flashing red lights alerting their presence. A fair size group of men were following behind at a distance, shouting for them to stop and shouting for other workers to come to their aid.

Scott and Stiles fled to a door marked "stairs" and headed down to the first floor, jumping multiple steps at a time to move as quickly as possible. They came to the doors of the first floor as Scott placed a hand on Stiles' chest and motioned for him to move back.

"What're you doing?" Stiles shouted, "We've got to go! Like, now!"

Scott shushed his friend and looked through the small rectangular windows in the door, "Look, there's more of them!" He said worriedly.

Stiles moved up to the window, "Oh my god. We're going to jail for breaking and entering. My dad is going to kill me," he paced slightly in front of the door and put his hands on top of his hood.

"We're not going to jail," Scott hissed "Come on, we'll run past them."

"That's the worst idea on the list of worst ideas." Stiles doubtfully said, "You don't think they'll catch us?"

Scott thought a moment and quickly said, "But I can run fast!" Hope filled his eyes.

Stiles opened his arms and motioned to his body, "And what about me?"

Foot steps were heard descending down the stairs.

"We've got to go now Stiles!" Scott pressured for a better idea.

"Okay, okay. Wolf out!" He smiled, "Yeah! Wolf out, maybe it'll scare them and they'll back off or something!"

The idea was the best they had and they went with it. Scott kicked open the door snarling and crouched in a threatening position. His eyes were golden and his teeth were pointed and snapping at the air in front his face. Men in their white coats gasped, shocked by the creature before them. Scott moved forward, pressing them against the back end of the hall way, leaving a turn to the right completely open for them to take. He turned his head to Stiles and motioned for him to follow. With Stiles' hands pulling his hood over his face he stood behind Scott and rounded the right corner to flee down the hall. With one last threatening snarl Scott bounded after Stiles, leaving the shocked men behind.

With their path momentarily cleared they were able to make it to the front doors pretty quickly and from the doors back to the safety of the Jeep.

Deaton was nervously waiting back at the vets office, worried about the boys. They'd been gone a long time and his mind began to drift to thoughts that were nowhere near positive. The moment he heard car wheels against the concrete of his parking lot he jumped to a window, releaved to find the boys back in one piece, not that he doubted they couldn't protect themselves. A warm smile of his welcomed the two and led them back to the examination room where Derek lay flat on the metal table the golden dog was previously on. Scott pulled out the bags tucked into his jacket before Deaton had the chance to ask for them.

"How did it go?" He eagerly asked, "It was no problem for you, was it?" He poured the MeliorativeRevivify into his old jar and threw out the bags.

Stiles answered, "You know, aside from almost dying, oh, And nearly a life time in prison, it wasn't really too bad." His signature sarcasm itched in his voice.

Deaton shook his jar, "As long as you two are okay," his voice was fatherly. "Scott, can you move Derek to the floor, please?"

Scott did as asked and picked Derek up in his arms with a slight struggle and set his limp body softly on the ground. His slow chest movements was the only indication of him being alive, and it worried them all. Stiles and Scott watched intrigued as Deaton mixed some black amethyst with the Meliorative Revivify and poured a small circle around Derek's body. He then removed the lid from the gem water and poured a small amount into each of the wounds, soaking Derek's clothes. Once he finished that he stepped back and grabbed a small box of matches from his cabinet and brought it to a small flame, bending carefully over the circle and setting the flame into the powder.

The black line made a hissing sound before rising up into a tall flame that raced around Derek's body, locking him in. The fire grew white and large embers flew into the air to dance around the circle. The hissing sound grew louder and was accompanied by a popping sound. Stiles couldn't see Derek. And when he tried to move closer to make sure Derek's body wasn't being burned to a crisp the white flames burnt his eyes and he was forced to close them again. After a moment the white flame shortened and got its orange tint back before all at once ceasing, leaving behind the burnt remnants of the black trail. Derek's body was now visible. His clothes and skin were still soaked, but his skin gave off the feeling of life, the feeling it'd just recently lost.

Stiles, Scott and Deaton stood silently, bringing back that humming sound that seemed to appear in the absence of noise or movement. They all stared at Derek, waiting patiently for any sign of life back in his body. Derek's body jerked as he sucked in a large gasp of air. His eyes flew opened and his hands grasped at the floor. His chest moved quickly and he sat upright and looked around with a confused face. The three were still silent and motionless. Derek smiled, for the first time in a while he looked alive. His smile lit up his face, and literally lit up his red alpha eyes as well. "You did it." He breathed out. His voice was filled with a peaceful sense of praise and felicity. His eyes were on Stiles and stayed there for a long moment.

Stiles was the first of the three to move or speak. He leapt into the circle and threw his arms around Derek's neck, not caring that his clothes were beginning to soak up moisture from Derek's own clothes, "Oh my god," was all his he could bring himself to say. His voice sounded a little shaky, relieved, happy. Derek chuckled and lifted and arm to hug Stiles back.

Stiles broke out into the widest grin imaginable. A tear pricked at his eye. He did it. He saved Derek, just as he promised.

Scott and Deaton stood watching. Scott knew exactly what about going to happen next, while Deaton looked a bit confused, although he got a pretty good impression from the scene that the two had strong feelings towards each other.

Scott coughed, "Do the dogs need fed?" He turned to Deaton in a voice that said, "lets give these two some space."

Deaton laughed, and walked out of the room with Scott following behind him.

Stiles watched as they left and returned his attention to Derek. "How are you feeling?"

Derek sighed happily, "I'm doing pretty great actually," he smirked when he looked to Stiles' body that was tightly pressed into his own.

Stiles couldn't help but to listen to the voice in head that kept screaming, "kiss him!" And he dipped his head quickly to press his lips lightly into Derek's.

Derek knew it was coming, and pursed his lips even before Stiles had touched him. With eyes closed, Derek parted his lips, sucking in Stiles' scent and enjoying every bit of it.

"Yes!" Scott happily whispered from the door, grinning ear to ear when Stiles and Derek turned their attention his way.

Stiles laughed with him and added a playful eye roll before turning back to Derek. He pushed Derek's torso back with his chest, bringing their bodies towards the ground. With Stiles now ontop of Derek, they quickly got back to their celebrating of Derek's revival.

* * *

I'm sorry guys. I lost the feel to finish this one, so it's a bit rushed.

New ending is dedicated to my friend, Mary!


End file.
